


The Tyger

by Sol_Invictus



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe, Angst, M/M, Unrequited Love, mild description of body mutilation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 09:44:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11598042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sol_Invictus/pseuds/Sol_Invictus
Summary: Warning: mild description of body mutilation.An alternate ending toPrey, where no rifle can save a skinny young man from a tiger's sharp teeth.





	The Tyger

**Author's Note:**

> The title is, of course, a reference to William Blake's poem _The Tyger_.

Max DeBryn didn’t realize. He had thought Morse injured, yes, as always. It was only when he had seen DI Thursday screaming like a wild angry beast, pushing off every officer trying to calm him down, that he had known something was wrong. It had taken five solid seconds to register who the young man was when he had pulled the cover off. It was DC Morse, staring lifelessly at him like a porcelain doll, blood smeared on his face.

Max couldn’t bring himself to start the post-mortem. There was this irrational hope inside of him telling him Morse wasn’t really dead, that he was going to spring up from the autopsy table like some scared deer. Yet it was obvious he was dead. The tiger had sunken its teeth right in his throat before tearing it away, cutting the vertebrae with it. Morse had died within seconds. The deep lacerations over his torso were, thankfully, post-mortem.  They had probably been caused by the feline’s paws.

The pathologist berated himself for such a scandalous lack of professionalism. He had work to do, no matter his feelings. He did the first cut with unsteady hands, still irrationally expecting Morse to jump on him, but he didn’t. He stayed exactly at the same place, no one limb moving, as DeBryn opened him up.

Surprisingly, even after the autopsy, Max still expected Morse to turn up at the morgue as usual. It was only three days later, on a Saturday morning, that he truly understood Morse was dead. His first thought after reading the invitation to the funeral was: “ _Morse is dead.”_ It hit him like a train at full speed, knocked him breathless as if it was the first time he learned of it. The tears streamed down his face a few moments after. Max hadn’t cried a single tear until then. Now he was sobbing almost hysterically in his living room. Suddenly he remembered all these times where he had dearly wished to know what Morse looked like naked. He felt sick to his stomach as he recalled the unexpected cloud of freckles on his right hip, the paleness of his bony limbs, the faint bruises over his ribs… Max managed to reach the kitchen sink before throwing up. He felt breathless, choking on his sobs and tears. He wished his longing had never been fulfilled. He wished he had warned Morse more insistently about being careful.

He wished he never had fallen in love with Endeavour Morse.


End file.
